


A Tale Continued

by pt_tucker



Series: A Little TLC (Tender Loving Cats) [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Cat/Human Hybrids, Catboy!Mycroft, Catboy!Sherlock, Catboys & Catgirls, Dom/sub Undertones, Dominant Mycroft, Licking, M/M, Mycroft POV, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Sibling Incest, submissive Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-22
Updated: 2015-11-22
Packaged: 2018-05-02 18:46:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5259659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pt_tucker/pseuds/pt_tucker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft sets out to give Sherlock a <em>very</em> thorough cleaning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Tale Continued

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yeaka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/gifts).



> This takes place _immediately_ after the previous story. It's 100% smutty catboy sex and not really anything else, so feel free to skip if that's not your cup of tea since you won't miss anything of importance. Otherwise, enjoy. :)
> 
> Unfortunately not beta'd, so if you see any mistakes, feel free to tell me!

“I do believe we’ve frightened him off, brother mine.” Pushing himself to his knees, Mycroft picked up Sherlock’s tail and ran his tongue across the soft fur - one long swipe from one end to the other. Mycroft gripped the tip when he reached it. His brother ever enjoyed acting like a kitten, and Mycroft had no doubt he would smack him in the face if given half a chance. 

Sherlock snorted. “Most likely terrified by the prospect of your impending nudity.” The muscles in his tail shifted, but nothing came of it as Mycroft’s grip remained strong. His ears flattened in annoyance.

“ _My_ impending nudity?” Mycroft’s tongue darted out in small, even licks. 

“Yes.” Sherlock glanced over his shoulder. “John isn’t _that_ stupid.”

“Isn’t he?” Mycroft raised an eyebrow. “I recall one of us insisting we’d have to tell him if we had any hope of one day expressing our feelings” –they both crinkled their noses at the word- “in his presence.”

Sherlock huffed and went back to scowling at his pillow. “You seem to be doing a marvelous job of that already.”

“Yes, well…” Mycroft’s lips curled up into something predatory. 

Sherlock shivered when Mycroft lifted his tail and licked the underside near the base. Mycroft’s mouth hovered just centimeters above the sensitive skin that rested above Sherlock’s arsecrack. He’d attend to that in a moment.

Truth be told, Mycroft had grown tired of John’s attention towards Sherlock of late. Not that John was likely to do anything, it was in a dog’s nature to be attentive towards their friends, but it couldn’t hurt for Mycroft state his claim, just in case. There always existed the possibility that John might come around to the idea of Sherlock as a sexual being, and his brother, curious thing that he was, would probably say yes if John asked. 

“I do believe that’s done,” Mycroft said, examining Sherlock’s tail. 

Sherlock’s gaze shot towards him. “You’ve barely worked on it. _Lazy._ ” 

Mycroft was hard-pressed not to comment on his brother’s abrupt shift in attitude. “It wasn’t that dirty. Now this, on the other hand...” Mycroft grabbed Sherlock by the hips and pushed him onto his stomach, pillow and all. Sherlock hissed and thrashed, his tail smacking Mycroft in the face with an accuracy that couldn’t have been accidental. 

Mycroft put an end to that by squeezing the back of Sherlock’s neck. His brother stilled instantly, though the tip of his tail continued to bat at Mycroft. He permitted it; his own tail was twitching at the prospect of what was to come. 

Mycroft paid no mind to Sherlock’s low-frequency growls as he arranged the pillow underneath his brother’s pelvic area so that it pushed his arse out. It was only then that his brother seemed to comprehend his intention. The growls cut off abruptly to be replaced by a flush that crept across his shoulders.

“You already cleaned there,” he protested weakly, mostly because Sherlock _had_ to protest something every ten minutes or else he’d spontaneously combust. Mycroft snorted his disbelief; he could smell Sherlock’s interest. 

He lifted Sherlock’s tail again, this time licking the skin underneath the base. Sherlock’s breath caught. “No. I flushed it and washed it in the shower,” Mycroft corrected. “I would hardly consider that a proper cleaning, brother mine.”

Mycroft pulled Sherlock’s cheeks apart just as Sherlock attempted to respond. Whatever insults his brother had been about to throw at him ended up as a garble of indistinguishable noises as Mycroft’s tongue snuck into his still-loose entrance. The earlier enema had been one of Mycroft’s better ideas, if he did say so himself. Perhaps he’d require Sherlock to do it daily from now on.

He gave Sherlock no time to acclimatize before pulling his tongue out and then pushing it in again. Mycroft fucked him with its wetness, with its warmth, with its ability to twist up and tease him in all the right places and in all the right ways. Sherlock mewled pathetically and pushed back against his mouth. It was a wonder John _didn’t_ know about them; his brother had always been quite the noise-maker. Mycroft had been positive he’d heard them that time in the car.

“Mycroft,” Sherlock whined, rubbing his cock into the pillow beneath him. It was the closest his little brother ever got to begging, and so Mycroft slipped his hand underneath Sherlock as a reward.

Sherlock’s cock was already completely hard, so Mycroft wrapped his thumb and forefinger around the head and teased it until a bit of pre-come dribbled out of the slit and onto his fingers. He pulled away when Sherlock bucked into his hand, and then returned it when Sherlock stilled so he could tease him again. His brother panted into the bed and gripped the blanket while a steady stream of desperate noises escaped him.

Mycroft repositioned Sherlock so that he could continue his tongue work while masturbating him at the same time. 

“Hold yourself open,” Mycroft ordered. 

Sherlock’s hands shook with need, but he managed to provide Mycroft with the room he required. His brother’s volume increased several notches as Mycroft slipped his tongue into him once again, and he outright yelled when Mycroft sealed his lips against his brother’s arsehole and sucked at the same time he tongue-fucked him. 

Sherlock pumped himself with Mycroft’s hand for the precious few seconds Mycroft permitted it, and then Mycroft wrapped his unused arm around Sherlock’s hips and squeezed him in warning. Sherlock’s resulting growl was a failed attempt to cover a sob. His brother jerked twice more just to be defiant, but eventually stilled without further prompting. Mycroft showed his pleasure by rubbing his palm against the head of Sherlock’s cock. 

Sherlock whined again. The resulting word was so mangled by his little brother’s pleading cries that it was only years of experience that enabled Mycroft to realize it was actually his name. His tongue picked up the pace. Sherlock’s legs trembled but that was their only movement, even as Mycroft teased his slit with the tip of a lone index finger.

Drawing himself out, Mycroft circled Sherlock’s hole with his tongue before blowing on it gently. It puckered, and he couldn’t help but chuckle. He was certain Sherlock would have snapped at him if he hadn’t been so focused on keeping himself upright.

“You’ve been very obedient today, brother mine.” Well, once Mycroft had shown disobedience wouldn’t be tolerated, at any rate. “I’ll let you choose.” 

“Damnit, Mycroft. I don’t care! Just-” 

Mycroft started pumping Sherlock’s cock. 

His brother spilled into his hand before he’d reached the third stroke. Sherlock went rigid and remained rigid all throughout his orgasm and Mycroft’s almost languid milking. Then Mycroft found himself with an armful of dead weight as Sherlock finally sagged. He removed his arms and allowed his brother to rest against the bed.

“Now I’ll have to clean you again,” Mycroft said, his voice chiding as if it was all Sherlock’s fault.

His brother snorted and flicked him with his tail. “Don’t pretend you have that much stamina, brother mine. You must be running on empty with all of the exercise you’ve performed today. Go and have a pastry before you fall over.”

“Ah, a pastry sounds lovely. Perhaps I’ll buy one on my way out,” Mycroft said, flicking Sherlock back. Sometimes the best way to deal with his brother was to play along. Few things annoyed him so much. “However, there is one final matter you must to attend to before you can be rid of me.” 

Sherlock grumbled but pushed himself onto his side. 

Mycroft took the invitation and crawled into the now-open space beside him. He rested his back against the headboard, enjoying the sight of a grumpy-looking Sherlock unzipping his trousers and pulling his cock from the confines of his boxers. He retrieved his mobile from his pocket, noting the missed calls from the Prime Minister with disinterest. 

Dialing his assistant’s number, he shivered involuntarily as Sherlock slid down his cock as far as his gag reflex would allow. His hand came up automatically to rest in his brother’s curls – possessive, but not pressing. Sherlock set his own pace. 

“Sir?” Anthea answered.

“I re-” Mycroft pressed his lips together as Sherlock purred. He held the speaker against his shoulder and released a low groan. Sherlock’s lips shifted into what felt like a smile, but was most likely a smirk. Fingers massaged Sherlock’s scalp in silent acknowledgement of a point scored in his brother’s favor. Sherlock’s tail swished happily.

“Sir?” a small voice sounded from his mobile.

Taking a calming breath, Mycroft pressed the mobile against his face and said, “I require clean-up at 221b Baker Street.”

“Canine-level scent removal?” she asked knowingly. 

“Yes. Fifteen-” He closed his eyes as Sherlock lapped at the head of his cock. “-Twenty minutes from now.”

“Yes, sir.” 

Mycroft hung up on her. He glanced down to find Sherlock’s challenging gaze. Almost of their own accord, their tails caught each other and intertwined. He opened the messaging section of his mobile.

_Thirty minutes – MH_

**Author's Note:**

> Anything that doesn't make sense? Anything you really liked? LMK what you thought! <3
> 
> FYI, I have at least 3 more stories planned for this series, which will all follow in the pattern of John's POV, then smutty Sherlock/Mycroft POV.


End file.
